3 years of training, and Earning the Feather.
The candidates were selected, everyone unmarried but past their adulthood rite. (between the ages of 13 and 22 with few exceptions, making your characters 16-25 with few exceptions.)
The first year was grueling, marching all over, climbing, carrying, as the ranks grew smaller the tricks began.
Travelling across the thinest longest bridges in the broken lands, some over cracks that plunged into darkness, some bare feet above the surging tide. The ranks shrank further.
An elder would send you marching 10 miles with a load, then another elder would be waiting, and ask you how many feathers the first elder had in his hair.
Messages relayed without mistakes.
3 days of marching around without rest.
Carrying logs from the forest to town over the ridge, that took 2 to carry.
Mock battles
Learning to read and write.
sneaking into and out of a camp.
By the end, you felt like brothers, they could not task you further. Three score had passed their tests.
Then they lead you up, along a path never seen, following the Northwest ridge almost 3 miles to a point where the cliff looked out over the sea. . . .there a broad ledge, and a terrible stink awaited you, the stink came out from the caves lining the ledge. Tuvanu shouted, and loud, raucous screams, terrifyingly loud, came from all directions.
From out of the caves came tremendous white things, screaming things, if not for the cliff behind, many might have fled. They flapped and approached, and bobbed their heads to Tuvanu. . .great birds, huge birds. . .snowy white but for some grey and black markings at head and wingtip. Their red eyes, so strange, as they cocked their heads this way and that to look you over.
Seven left that day, not able to handle it, another score left in the first month, mucking out caves, dragging in bamboo branches. . . .the rest, the rest got their chance to conquer the wind, to fly.
Another nine left, unable to handle it, two fell into the sea on their first try. None after that could be willingly parted from the thrill of it. Lahanu broke his leg so badly he could never again sit the saddle. . .the last, well, the last.
The gulls cavort and hunt the sea, nothing ever menaced them, noone ever knew why Gamenu landed his bird so abrutly in the sea, or what snatched them down a few moments later. . . .
Twenty-one earned the feather, Lahanu took charge of the caves and saddles, he may never fly again, but he couldn't leave. Twenty ascended to the temple, five will get their chance to leave Kani for the first time in 20 years.
